Collide
by AMiserableLove
Summary: Collection of M-rated drabbles and ficlets surrounding the Captain Swan pairing. This collection will contain ONLY mature content, please heed the warning.
1. Chapter 1

**_As mentioned in the summary this is a place for all of my CS smutty drabbles and ficlets that aren't really long enough to publish as one-shots by themselves but still deserve a place all of their own. I realize that not everyone reading my writing is interested in smut so from now on I'll post all of my sexy times stuff here so those that are not interested can easily avoid (or find *snickers*) it. _**

**_Heed the M-warning folks..._**

**_Some of this stuff is pretty dirty._**

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**Tumblr prompt: "mutual masturbation"**

**_Disclaimer-I don't own OUAT._**

**_REVIEW?!_**

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"That's it darling…" his voice is soft in her ear, breath washing hot over her arched neck as he shifts slightly, body pressed up against her side, good hand busy between his own legs, pumping and pulling in a jerky rhythm; his actions causing her to inhale sharply—hips jutting into her, rigid length pressing against her. "Show me what you do to yourself when I'm not here to satisfy your needs."

His words bring a wave of heat sweeping throughout her, hot and buzzing, and she's more than a little grateful that she's lying down, sprawled out on her back—legs parted open, mouth gone dry, and heart beating rapidly. She can feel the blush in her cheeks at his low words, her body tingling with warmth and arousal as her fingers move between her thighs even more furiously, rubbing herself almost frantically, looking for that sweet, sweet release. The pressure she's felt building from the moment he'd woken her up—lips working their way up her throat, hand cupping her breast—pulling even tighter as they both continue to work themselves, the need for something _more _growing fast inside of her.

"_Killian_." Her voice is bordering on a whine but she can't really bring herself to care, not with the way she's_ burning_ for him; everything on fire as he pumps his cock next to her, his eyes searing into her as he watches her search for the much needed relief she so desperately craves.

"Tell me what you want love."

She moans out a response, incapable of answering just yet, fingers moving from her clit to part her folds; the wetness she finds there only further heightening her lust soaked senses.

She wants him.

_God_ she wants him.

She wants him on top of her, inside of her; lips trailing hot and branding paths down her body, hand all over her, exploring and touching, cock moving in and out of her, driving her into a frenzy.

His lips nuzzle her neck again, the caress of his tongue and teeth causing her to shiver a little as she feels him move ever so slightly; so that he's lying fully on his side, hand still stroking himself, lips changing their direction as he brings his head down to feast on her breast. The feel of his mouth—warm and wet—closing around her, pulling a soft cry from her as her fingers bury themselves even deeper inside of her slick wet heat, pumping in and out near wildly in a reckless and utterly wanton display.

She's close.

So, so close.

Body taut, blood rushing fast, and skin flushed and humming, she bites her lip and curves a finger; stroking a spot that has her toes curling and a gasp bubbling up from her tight and narrowed throat.

_So close. _

Seemingly sensing the change in her he groans softly; the quiet hum vibrating against her skin before he lifts his head; eyes so intense and vibrantly blue in the darkened room that her breath catches for a moment and her body tenses even more—her fingers stilling in their movements as the air around them practically crackles and sizzles with sparking heat.

"No." He cants his hips, deliberately so—she can feel every hard and solid inch of him resting against her—the sensation teasing and mocking her as her reckless and ravenous hunger grows. "Don't stop. Fuck yourself for me Emma."

His demand is hoarse, voice full of want and need, and for a moment she has to close her eyes against him, has to stop herself from rolling over and straddling him, taking from him everything that she so selfishly desires.

But that's not part of the game.

For as much as she wants to feel him buried inside of her, bodies slapping against each other, his cock sliding along her inner walls, hitting her in just the right spot again and again, pulling an orgasm from her—one that's steadily been building for some time now—allowing her to finally, _finally_ come; she's not ready to stop what they're doing_. _His lips on her skin, hand gripping himself tightly as she fingers herself fervently, a dark and insatiable turn on.

"Show me what you like sweetheart." His tone is almost dangerously low, gaze still burning into her as she opens her eyes, the rhythmic movements of his hand—still moving up and down his straining length—brushing against her outer thigh. "Show me what you do to that tight wet cunt when no one is watching. Show me how you imagine my fingers…" he whispers kisses down her shoulder, working a path back to her breasts, a wave of goose-bumps rising in their wake "How you think about my tongue." Circling her nipple he bites down a little, the pain and pleasure pulling a breathy pant from her—her jerking hips and tiny whimper bringing a dark chuckle rumbling past his lips. "How you picture my cock buried inside of you."

Letting out a sound that's a mixture between a groan of frustration and a moan of want she begins fucking herself even harder now, body lifting off the bed slightly, hips rocking as her free hand blindly reaches out; a small and victorious smile curving her lips as she cups him below where he's holding himself, squeezing him lightly—his muttered and broken curse a beautiful, beautiful sound.

And God it's always like this with him.

Blazing hot passion.

Insatiable want and need.

She never tires of it…

Of _him._

Unabashedly moving her hips faster, chasing her pleasure and tensing as it builds and peaks inside of her, she continues to buck against her hand, plunging her fingers into herself; her legs trembling a little as she digs her heels into the mattress and sucks her lower lip into her mouth. Putting on a show for him, knowing how watching her drives him mad—the slightly crazed look in his eyes a triumph all its own—she moans and writhes beneath her own touch, her other hand continuing to grip him lightly as he pumps himself more rapidly, his mouth latching onto her breast again, hips rutting against her greedily.

"Oh God yes." She's so tightly wound, just dancing that sliver-tipped edge—ready, waiting, _needing_ to fall. She can feel tears gathering in her eyes, her throat closing slightly and her breathing coming in and out in short and shallow little bursts as she thumbs at her clit and squeezes her eyes shut tight once again. "Oh God, oh God, oh God…_Oh. God_."

"That's a good girl, let go. Let me watch." He practically purrs the praise into her skin, and it's the sound of his voice, velvet smooth and dark as sin, coupled with another brush of her clit and a quick curl of her fingers, that sends her over the edge. The feel of her walls clenching and unclenching around her fingers bringing a low moan from her lips, followed by his name, whispered over and over again in rapid and unashamed succession.

Dimly, through the roaring in her ears and the unyielding waves of pleasure that relentlessly wash over her—sending her reeling and feeling more than a little disoriented—she hears him curse again, feels more than sees him shift so that he's on his knees and leaning over her, hand still stroking himself as he quietly says her name before coming fast, spilling himself onto her.

His release spurting across her—over her breasts and onto her belly— he decorates her skin, the hot and branding act drawing out her own orgasm as he grunts and groans above her, continuing to mark and claim her as his eyes soak in the sight.

"Beautiful…bloody-fucking-beautiful."

His voice is gruff, everything about him—disheveled hair, wild and reckless eyes—looking absolutely wrecked as he stares down at her covered in his cum, gaze drinking her in as he lightly grips his cock, hand still jerking ever so slightly as he continues to feast on the sight of her.

She should feel dirty, should probably feel somewhat annoyed…

But damn if she's not turned on even more by the blatant and utter satisfaction gleaming in his gaze.

Breathing in deeply as she comes down from her high, she lays her head back onto the pillows, arches her back somewhat lazily, and stretches her arms over her head before glancing back down at the drying evidence of his release. At the sight her stomach clenches, warmth pooling a little between her thighs; and sighing somewhat softly as her limbs take on the delicious heaviness that usually comes with a good and hard orgasm, her lips dip into a poor excuse for a frown as she raises a sharp eyebrow and levels him with a_ look_; her mouth threatening to tilt up into a smile as he stares back at her, appearing anything but sorry for the state he's left her in—his own lips curved up into a somewhat charming and undeniably roguish grin.

"Well…" Gesturing down her body with an idle sweep of her hand, she glances back at him, tilting her head to the side as she meets his eyes once more. "I don't suppose I can go back to sleep now…can I… _Captain_?" Her voice holds mock reproach, tone light and brimming with both amusement and barely concealed lust; and watching as his grin grows even wider, his eyes darkening even further, she tries (and fails) to suppress a shudder as he moves to cover her body with his, pressing his full weight into her as he lowers his lips to her ear, good hand already working its way down…

"Aye, I don't suppose you can. Fancy a midnight shower Swan?"

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	2. Chapter 2

**_Just a quick drabble I posted on tumblr after the season 3 finale..._**

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It's simple.

They fall and rise in a timeless rhythm, reading each other near perfectly as they come together sinuously, finally giving in with practiced ease after what seems like a lifetime of waiting, denial and struggle; their actions effortless and natural as they embrace the moment and leave their pasts behind them.

It's slow.

They take their time, exploring every last inch of each other. He feathers his mouth across her flushed and heated skin; and she ghosts soft caresses and tender touches up and down the length of his trembling body. Their lips meeting in unhurried and deliberate kisses, they whisper lazy endearments and gentle praises, giving themselves over to each other completely.

It's heated.

Passion simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to brand and burn with the intensity of a thousand fiery suns, he swallows her soft and drawn out cries and she savors his breathless and broken gasps. The sound of his name tumbling from her lips in a hushed and awe-filled tone only drowned out by the lingering notes of hers as he whispers it again and again; she leads him into blissful and blinding oblivion and he follows, never once looking back.

It's right.

Laying in the aftermath, legs tangled together, and bodies glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, they listen to their racing hearts—beating perfectly in sync—and relish in the feel of warm skin against warm skin as the last of their barriers finally fall and their old and tortured demons quiet and fade. Shared love calmly acknowledged and fully embraced; they silently welcome each other home.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Quick angsty/feelsy drabble..._**

**_Borderline M-rating._**

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_"Emma."_

His voice is gruff and broken as he hovers over her, the sound warming her body, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck standing to attention as her name washes over her, whispered from his lips in a reverent tone, settling and coming to a rest on her own as he shifts and moves inside of her.

Taking his time with her, he worships her slowly.

Eyes closed, skin tingling and flushing and near sparking with anticipation and want and_ need, _she revels in the warm and solid feel of him, the lingering taste of him on her tongue, the spicy scent of him clinging to the air. And she thinks, as his good hand traces its way up her outer thigh, his chest flushed hotly against hers, that perhaps, if she allowed herself, if fate so decided…she could die happily here, just like this.

With him.

Embraced by him.

Consumed by him.

Surrounded by him.

It's a morbid thought, and one she refuses to apologize for.

(Sometimes she's selfish.)

(Sometimes she's tired.)

(Sometimes she just wants to disappear.)

He pulls her back though.

Grounds her.

There are times however, when she considers (fears) that maybe they're not meant to be. That maybe all this time the signs have been telling them something different, stacking up against them, glaringly obvious with their repetitive and trite, painfully unwanted message.

After all…

She's supposed to be a savior, he a villain.

She's a princess, he a pirate.

She's the sheriff, he a thief.

There's never enough time, always a crisis.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Act.

React.

Pain and suffering and different realms threatening to come between them, maybe it should all be very clear by now, maybe they're just choosing to remain blissfully ignorant.

Maybe she'll lose him too.

She can't help but think about it, weighing it heavily in the deepest corners of her sometimes too dark mind, where fear and doubt and insecurity are all very real things and definitely still exist.

Still, it's at times like this, when they're alone, foreheads pressed together, bodies molded into each other, seemingly the only two people in existence, the only two people that _matter_, that that spark of worry and anxiety is finally, _finally _drowned out—shadowed only by the quick building inferno of acceptance, and certainty, and _faith_ that warms her veins, threatening to burn and consume her entirely, as her eyes lock with his and their lips meet and she concedes that _yes_, she is finally home.

And later, later when the calming blaze burns out, and the world comes back into focus and she feels the cold and sharp claws of fear and panic begin to scratch and tear and attempt to pull her apart once again; she stands on that brink, that seductive tip of uncertainty, looking down into the madness and chaos, the crisis and despair…

And waits for him to pull her back from the edge.

Reminding her again, what it's like to really live.

(After all, sometimes saviors need saving too.)


End file.
